When Sunlight Comes Pouring Down
Leaves tickle my feet as they rush into the air
The woods come alive with the red, orange, yellow, and green shimmering around me
A zephyr gently smooths down the trees’ hairs and braids them, one by one
I gaze dreamily into space, thinking of nothing
Of nothing until one memory breaks the surface
Seagulls wheeled around in the sky while dark waves advanced towards me
All the trees, currents, birds, and humans—even the sky—became eyes
Eyes that preyed into my soul
I dropped into a ball
Tears sliding out
Hoping for another life
A life not filled with betrayal and neglect
A life in which I can choose
The grassy slope
The dandelions bobbing up and down
The birds hopping around as if they are on fire
The petals skating down the tree
The tearstained soil
She was cherry pop and juicy fruit
She knew how to get the loot
5 inch heels and attitude
Down her back a dragon tattoo
She said 'My name is Felony
Wanna see me dance then pay the fee'
I loved her like the rest of them
Half Japanese half American gem
I was her yin she was my yang
A two girl bad ass stripper gang
We rocked the club whether day or night
Piss one of us off we both would fight
She was only 5 foot 2
You're in trouble if she takes off her shoe
Up on the stage she strikes a pose
She'd rock your world til time to close
You couldn't separate the two of us
We'd get into trouble just because
I loved her it was plain to see
Just as much as she loved me.
I'm sitting on the floor of my bathroom.
The ashtray seems to have disappeared.
Ashes from my cig in the toilet...
Ashes are all that's left
of the me I once was.
My bedroom door was kicked in today.
It won't ever close right again.
Splinters of wood are on the carpet...
Splinters are all that's left
of the girl I used to be.
There's glass on the living room floor.
Shattered when the frames fell down.
My bare feet will find shards of glass weeks after the mess is cleaned up...
I'm sliced by the repercussions of my choices,
years after the apologies were made.
There's cat food all over the kitchen floor.
His dishes are upside down in the corner.
Upside down, scattered on the ground...
It's a wasted mess, just like me.
There's a large hole by the front door.
Too low to cover up with a picture,
I don't know how to fix it myself,
Too embarrassing to ask for help.
Like the mess I've made of my life,
No hiding nor fixing this mess on my own.
That ashtray is still missing.
My shaking hand has crummy aim.
Tears leave streaks in my makeup
as they drop uselessly in my lap.
I slap my leg, the sound of palm biting flesh
is deepened on wet skin.
I like that sound.
The sizzling sound a cigarette makes
when I put it out on my thigh...
I like that sound even better.
Cigarette ashes on the bathroom floor.
Ashes, all that's left of the me I once was.
And so it begins . . .
TV shows about,
Cat videos about,
Yet, we seek,
But it slips through our slippery fingers.
So we end up with,
Plato understood: “I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing.”
So did Tolstoy: “We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom.”
Even Oscar Wilde: “I love to talk about nothing. It's the only thing I know anything about.”
“Something” slips through our slippery digits.
We’re left with,
As it began—so shall it end.
ARTWORK: Overunder & Yale Wolf
Memoirs Of A Guy And A Girl Trapped Stationary in The Universe, As They Scheme To Escape
You are talking to me with philosophical hope, and I watch your words fall into the cigarette you are rolling. And I ask for a drag. The nature that surrounds us makes me forget for a minute that the rest of humanity is close enough to touch, and I catch a bird watching us. His onyx feathers reflect the setting sun, and he twists his head as though he is trying to hear what we are saying. I look at you and smile with innocent distraction, and I notice that I never realized how perfectly blue your eyes are. They are tangible crystals that can show me the past and perhaps they can predict the future, too. And I scoot closer to the edge of my seat, and a little to my right, hoping to absorb a bit of your aura. We are anchored to a bottomless pool of possibilities and the thought of it all overwhelms and excites me. I look at the fine lines on your porcelain hands and imagine the lovers with whom you have shared your magical touch. The thought doesn't make me jealous, but it makes me love you more. You fell from a place of celestial grace and into my lap, and I whisper under my breath, "I will always believe in you." You are a Midas of inspiration. Your touch opens my eyes to an alternate universe whose heartbeat lives within the fractals of This world. And as the dissipating sunlight ricochets off your exposed soul, specs of diamond dust move through the air, and I breathe deeply with the intent to inhale you. I can feel a part of you inside of me, as I digest the conversation we are sharing. Worlds apart, but cut from the same cloth, my heart wells with an overproduction of blood and spirit when I am near you. Its bulbous life flows with great empathy, so I distract myself by lighting another smoke. And now, I can hear you thinking. The sound of your intellect plays like a familiar melody that I can't quite place, but, nonetheless, it brings me the kind of comfort that I have always longed for. You are sturdy, but fragile, and I daydream about a future where what we are doing in this moment will become our everyday pastime.
You are my dearest friend.
I went into
in search of life
and what I found
was silent prayer
in empty pews;
a kneeling figure
to a weary priest
out of curtained view.
And in that moment
I was blessed
with the answer
to my quest,
not in stone
or sacred litany
but rather deep
inside of me.
For a soul that's
Purple knocked on the door politely. He was sweating as if he had just exited the sauna. She always nagged and told him he was wound too tight. That he needed to relax. Too stressed. She was worried he was going to burn himself out with the amount of work he was continuing to pile up. That's when she made the call for him. Purple's friends said he's a nice guy, just an 'average Joe' who owned the local coffee shop, sold to smoke, and did some day trading on his days off. Green, they called him.
Green opened the door and immediately recognized Purple. He had a suit that wasn't tailored and tie that looked like it was strangling the poor guy. He couldn't help but chuckle.
"Come take a seat, my man. First session is on me."
Everything is bright
Hide the sun
And I'm dizzy,
My own feet
How can I trip in a dream?
You're not supposed to feel
You're not supposed to
But I see my family
Like a flickering light
In a dark hall.
I watch as
Everything I love
Under the Enemy's heel
And ground into
And run to help
But my feet don't move
My voice makes
My hands cannot
Please help me
I fall to my knees
And see red
Tears of blood
I turn around
And he's there.
He wears my face
And uses my voice
To laugh at me.
He shows me
Things I long for;
My friend, alive.
My scars, healed.
My hopes, restored.
Then my demon
Uses my teeth
To bite down,
And rip them in half.
I close my eyes
Against the sight.
When I look again,
Falling into nothing,
No one to catch me
No one to care.